The Madness of Miss Venomania
by Puppy in a Basket
Summary: An orphan of the town Venomania, Luka is sick of her life. Everyone despises her, and she only wishes to be loved. How she handles the anguish, however, sucks her into a life of insanity and sin, of which she can never return from.  Rated T for explicit content.


Another day passes, another woman comes my way. It hadn't occurred to me at the time, but the female seemed like she wasn't from our small village. Maybe she was a visitor? Either way, once she steps into my domain, she won't come out.

I smile warmly, taking in her looks. She was rather a skinny one, with hardly any chest or curves, but I would say perhaps I had overdosed with well-shaped women; perhaps having a scrawny, innocent girl was a breath of fresh air. I warmed up to the idea. She wore a plain white bow on the top of her head, the symbol of Venomania as an unmarried woman, and a cucumber-green dress with a frilled white undershirt. Her blond, light hair added to her adorable appearance. My eyes set like a hunting animal, I swipe the bangs from my eyes, and her expression changed a bit. What was it, confusion? Ah, that must be it. I suppose I wasn't my usual self—I noticed a bit more of the devil's marks sprawling across my limbs as I spent nights with the townswomen. Checking a mirror that took the place of my old portrait, I noticed my right eye was no longer red like it had been when the deal was first made, but a pitch black, hell's king leaving a tattoo on my cheek. Not that it truly mattered, for any pleasure, as well as my beauty, outweighed it. A mere nuisance that hardly affected my abilities.

I grinned, my open arms welcoming her to my chest. She was a pretty little thing, though an unusual lack of grace gnawed at the back of my mind. I knew for sure that the other women, seamstresses; soldiers; whatever the profession, had better posture, walked more majestically, as if manners depended on their life. Maybe she wasn't educated in the poise arts like they had? This was mysterious to me. Oh, maybe I'm just being picky. I pondered on it a moment more, but waved it away; it was probably just that she was young, inexperienced with what her expected demeanor was. I liked that, a lot. It made me feel as if I needed to teach her a lesson, I guess you could say. But, still, it managed to bother me, as well as the fact that I couldn't see her face well in the lighting. The torches may have provided the only source of retrieving detail, but I was anticipating her at least lifting up her face to show me her uncertain, prey-like eyes. This was far different from my other evenings. The women would brightly raise their faces towards me, completely love struck, and practically waltz across the marble floor to begin. We were still a distance away, but she finally ceased staring at the floor to give a glance into my features. Oh, how beautifully cobalt her eyes were. Too bad she was so shy. Maybe I could break that habit of her.

She took the hint of my welcoming arms, touched the red flower in her hair—a small little invitation I hand to women of interest so that they fall enchanted—and ran towards me with surprisingly eager speed. No matter, because it was surely from my charm. I really loved the beauty "he" gave me. It made me feel so… in power, loved, needed. All that I had ever hoped for was in my grasp, and whatever ridiculous thing I've done falls short from my eyes—if I've even done anything wrong. I can only see millions of naked and bare bodies in front of me, their smiles all belonging to me. I owned them. Every single one of them. And now my latest addition was racing to my arms, ready to be captured by my charm. Ah, how I loved my new life.

Then it happened. Something I should have expected, but foolishly didn't. She finally came into me, as I wrapped my arms around her waist and attempted hastily to get on with it; I was a tad impatient. But this was different. Our passion didn't happen. Our hug was brief. There was no feeling from either side, I soon noticed. And then I spotted it, all of the realization flooding my head. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shimmering strip of bright light reflected off of the radiating flames' light. A fate that I couldn't escape, racing for me head-on. It couldn't have taken me more than a split second to recognize it. Shining, therefore metal. Most likely my ironic invitation to the devil once more. A knife.

I shoved her back, but it was too late. She—or he, now that I think about how any woman should have been shrouded in lust—had already sunk the blade deep within my chest, right at my heart. He pierced my chest, hard enough to be fatal. Everything was a blur at that moment, every event happening in slow-motion. I suddenly heard a soft, but menacing sound come from my upper torso as the blade entered me.

_Thunk._

My heart gave a jerk, acknowledging the injury. I couldn't believe how quickly it had all happened. My blood, sweat, formerly mixed in harmony, now blended a pink hue. My mind was racing, every ounce of adrenaline I had up until this point crashing through my veins, much like a suddenly broken dam. Ugh, this feeling. It was disgusting, not the bittersweet feeling that swelled in my chest when I stroked a girl's individual hairs. Oh, my God, how much blood had spewed out of my chest, ripped flesh and tissue, shattered and punctured chest, and infiltrated heart swirling in my head. Speaking of my head, it was soon spinning, and all I could think was, _This isn't happening, this isn't happening, this isn't happening._

Now, the pain settles in. It was an immense, overwhelming wave of pure discomfort, blood loss adding to it all. I collapsed to my knees, and screeched a bloodcurdling scream, tears clouding my vision. I couldn't see, I couldn't hear, I couldn't smell. I could only taste blood rising in my mouth in a tempting vomit, and feel all of my anguish from my life pour violently into the pool of crimson, as if it were, too, blood. Everything around me was pitch-black, except for the figure looming over me. I was right: it was a man. How could I have not suspected this until it was all too late? I should have noted his ungraceful conduct as more of a man's appearance, I should have suspected the way he had such little shape as too masculine to even be a young girl. He wasn't even all that attractive, so I should have been able to pluck out his gender identity in a snap. But no, my lust—wrong. My madness, yes; madness, that was it. My madness shoved all of my suspicions underneath my eye's view, all for only hopes to express physical love that was never even there. _How stupid could I get?_

Everything broke. Gone, every one of them: all of my accomplishments, all of my thoughts, all of my glee, all of my women. _My women._ I frantically looked about. They couldn't leave, could they? We had been through so much in my time. Well, most of it was intercourse, but I felt that bonds were forming with some of them, and a particular one being revived. Maybe it was my own selfish, insane vision, but I thought the women here loved me.

Wrong. There was only a sliver of a moment that only my slowing heartbeat echoed throughout my ears, until I heard their screams and yells. My own screech had probably woken them up, and now their sense has come back to them. They sounded mad. Huh, mad. Mad like me, it might be asked? Not a chance. They were regaining their regular selves, and I distancing myself from my own.

"Lesbian freak!" "Pervert!" "Ugly whore!" "I can't believe I fell for this creature!" Their shouts were relentlessly a cruel collection of remarks that beat on the rest of my mind's energy. A blur of undergarments, tunics, and dresses sped past me as they released their frightened emotions in loud, deafening calls. Some of their eyes connected to mine, only to have furrowed eyebrows explain all of the disgust they contained. For the most part, tripping and slipping, barefoot ladies lunged towards the bright crevice that led to their escape and refuge. A few tried to make sense of the situation, of all the blood, sweat, tears, and the single smile, but plenty after gave in to the temptation of welcoming homes. Homes that were away from me. I was devastated to being faced this reality of them hating, resenting and despising me once more. But this time, it was not just because of who and what I was, but what I had done to them. Guilt smashed my head much like a heavy cement brick.

Broken spells, broken dreams, I suppose. I doubled over, vomited blood, and knew that not much of this I could last. Have any of you ever known or heard of when people have the fastest, yet slowest hindsight of all they did wrong flicker in their mind before they die? Let me tell you, that feeling's real as ever. I now saw my sin, and after looking at my pale, pathetic self in a distant mirror, could see that the devil's stains were disappearing as well as my madness. Sense came back to me, but it was far too belated to attempt to atone. My arts were gone, my women were all gone—

Wait. There was one left. And, oh, God, I knew that face. It was _her._ I couldn't read if the look in her eyes was pity, hatred, or disgust; maybe all three.

When we were young, she would always come to my house and play on the hills. We would idly chat, or have a serious talk, all the while picking flowers, giggling and generally having a fun time. No other girls would play with me, though. I guess you could say she was my angel, because she was pretty much the only one that would trust and care about me, someone to confide about my bottled up feelings. I felt that I needed her, that I could always be safe in her arms. Growing up alone, I never really knew what it was like to have someone be around you all day, every day, taking care of you every step of the way. My substitute for this deprivation was Meiko, and it was as simple as that. As long as I could talk to her at the end of the day, as long as I could see her smile, everything bad in the world vanishes, even if for just a brief moment.

Now, after my parents' decline of nobility, concluding with their demises, their will stated I go take the family's fortune and live off of it. But the thing was, this all happened when I was seven years old. I had plenty of childish issues every kid had to deal with, and all of this pressure of power and money surely wasn't helping. I was a kid. So, of course, I hadn't known how to spend the finances rationally, and I had no one to think this over with. I'll also state that how I managed to educate myself in self-care was unusually speedy, but that was aside the point; a child at this age never should have dealt with this conflict. You may think, _but Luka, you're a noble! Isn't that a good thing?_ My answer is simply no. There was too much to handle that I couldn't even spend a second at my family's funerals and mourn over them. I always thought that my power and bloodline was the cause of village girls alienating me. But I guess in Venomania, anyone can suspect and figure out something before you do.

_ It was a fine day, really. That was, until I came in with my bizarre emotions and tore apart my friendship with that wonderful, wonderful girl, Meiko. I came up with a bundle of flowers, because that "fine" day was her twelfth birthday. And I wanted to make her feel special._

_ "Happy birthday, Meiko!" I cheered happily as I excitedly shoved the flowers in my friend's grip._

_ "A-ah, Luka, thank you," she smiled warmly, accepting the small gesture. I grinned. How I _loved _that smile!_

_ We sat there, right under the comfortable and welcoming shade of the oak tree, as I blabbered on and on, trying to get Meiko to start up a regular conversation. She wasn't being her usual self that day. Maybe she got her first period? No, probably not; fourteen was the most common age for that to begin. Perhaps a male in our village exclaimed his affection? Something unfortunate happened to one of her family members? I was just dying to know._

_ I gave up on my aimless conversation—mostly because even I wasn't quite sure what I was saying—and sighed. I went straight to the point, like I always had been known to do. But what did that matter? There was something off, and I wanted to make it all better for her. "Meiko, you aren't being yourself today. Is something wrong?"_

_ She was silent; a solemn, serious look sprawled across her complexion. What was wrong, for goodness's sake? "Well…" she started, but her voice died down. She was going to need some encouraging._

_ "Well, what?" I leaned in._

_ "I was… uh…" She halted, noticed how close our faces were, and turned away. When she was down, I'd give her a sympathetic touch on her shoulder that would comfort her, but this time, it made her shudder and distance herself. She cleared her throat. "I was listening in on some girls over by the schoolhouse. And some were saying that you and I…" her voice trailed once more as she buried her head in her arms, which were resting neatly on her bent knees. Her face looked oddly red._

_ "You and I?" I was now concerned, because I knew what the other girls thought of me. Horrendous, ugly, an outsider. Not that it mattered to me, because I had Meiko. She was all I needed. But my indifference wouldn't help that Meiko herself might have been targeted. I swore I would tear apart any person who would dare lay a harmful finger on her._

_ "Some were saying that you and I are romantically… together." She finished, volume now regaining itself. She lifted her head, which had more blush on it I've ever seen._

_ I sat there, frozen with incomprehension. Romantically? What? That was something beyond my understanding. I had never even _thought_ of Meiko like that… right?_

_ She suddenly laughed a hoarse, rough, cruel laugh. "But that'd be crazy, right? We're both girls!"_

_ I chuckled a chuckle that I didn't even mean or feel, and said, "Heck yeah! Crazy!" Maybe this would just be over soon if I waved it off like she had. Maybe things could go back to normal. She seemed confused about my answer, as if the atmosphere was saying otherwise. But I had nothing to say. I thought at the time that if I just shut my mouth for a bit, it would get better._

_ Silence wasn't confirming it, though. "Luka, you don't think of me like that, do you? The flowers, the smiles, the glances; those are all just because we're friends, right?"_

_ Now she threw me into a hole I had to dig myself out of. I sat there, conflicted. _Had_ I thought of her in that way? I wasn't sure. Every now and then, I'd give a remark or mental note on how pretty her hair was, or how well-dressed she was that day, but I was certain all of that was only something regular friends thought about. On the other hand, I knew nothing about friends, so I couldn't know if it was friendship or another kind of love and care. She was my only friend; everyone else hated me. It may be normal to fall for the person you're most close to, but I simply hadn't. Meiko was a sister to me. Right…? I just didn't know anymore._

_ "… Uh."_

_ I hesitated too long. I should've said no. It would've been so much easier. Instead, she rose from her feet, bangs shadowing where I'd normally see her beautiful brown eyes. I immediately got up, exclaiming a, "Meiko!" before getting brusquely pelted in the face with flowers. The very same flowers I gave to her. I could see it in her face now, in between the petals that covered my face. She was all kinds of upset. Embarrassed, disgraced, disgusted, angry—furious, even—confused, and maybe even a bit saddened. Either way, she knew my pause was my uncertainty, and she stomped off._

_ Until years later, I never spoke to her again. I only heard her cold words that shattered through my heart and ripped every inch of it to oblivion. "I hate you."_

It was all settling in. Everything, every inch of my body, heart and mind ached in a symphonic scream that rushed through my body faster than the adrenaline pumping through my open system. She gave me one last look, a glare that sunk into my chest much harder than the knife ever could. Then she spun on her heel and stormed out the door the same way she had, so many years ago.

My mouth was dry. I could hardly feel any noise escape my throat, until the door had closed. "_Wait!" _I howled, tears shoving their way out of my eye sockets to roll down my cheeks. _"Meiko, I love you! Don't go! Don't go! _Don't go…" I gave in. The doors were heavy and thick, but anyone who wasn't deaf could easily hear on the other side. Meiko had heard me, heard my words, which I guess was enough for me. But there was such an agonizing emptiness in my heart, and I couldn't tell if it was her leaving me with enhanced hatred, or the knife's damages.

I had it. I was a complete mess, and a barely conscious one at that. I was bawling and screaming, most likely thrashing—though at this point, I couldn't even dictate my own actions. Oh, and another thing for those who want to prepare for their death: right before you die, it's true that your life flashes before your eyes. I suddenly remembered everything, mostly the past four months, being played over and over like a broken recorder. It was horrible, to say the least.

_I was standing at hell's gate, now twenty. It had been a long eight years since my broken heart, but I had spent enough time in solitude. I was a reject, but I knew in my heart there had to be someone out there who would cling to me, who would need me as I needed them. There had to be a way to escape this tragic destiny that was supposedly set in stone. And if there was one being who could fix my life, he would be here._

_Hell's breath washed over my body, the heat overwhelming. In a sense, an average person would be horrified at the sight, but I was determined. I felt as if I were coming here anyway, so I might as well get my intentions out of the way. I hesitated, but finally built up courage to speak to "him."_

"_Devil!" I shouted, the cavern monotonously repeating me, as if mocking me. Pretty fitting for the scenery. "I have my own soul to sell. In return for something."_

_Now, I know selling your soul to the devil "in return for something" isn't the best idea. He's kind of a trickster, right? Well, I knew what I was doing. In either case, the way I saw it, I'd end up agonized. This path had pleasure promised in its dirt-paved road, whereas the other was solemn, lonely. I wanted to escape that, to prevent that from ever happening again. I was tired of being alone, so very sick of it, so something like my soul was certainly a price I was willing to pay in order to dodge and avoid loneliness. I waited._

_A moment of nothing, then he appeared. To be more precise, it didn't exactly seem like it was he who was approaching at first, but rather a thick, heavy and dark fog. But that was obviously something that doesn't just float around aimlessly in hell. It was him. You couldn't necessarily see his full figure, but you could acknowledge the dark cloud that towered above you a good fifteen feet. No limbs, but he loomed over the metallic gate bars with ease. Two holes in the cloud were, from what I assumed, his eyes. If I knew one thing from my limited education, it was not to face hell's master with fear written on your expression. Had anyone forgotten this, he would twist those emotions into what was said to be the most painful experience the mind could ever face, then throw you to live with that scar until he captured you in the afterlife. Not a nice image, if I were to say so myself._

_No response. Which, I suppose, was his way of saying to continue. "Let any woman who meets my gaze fall for me, need me. I want to be loved. I want to be beautiful."_

_He never did speak, but a downwards-jerk of his head—err, the part of the cloud I guessed was his head—signaled he knew what I wanted, and granted it. Then he slowly, ever so eerily, turned, and left, fading into the red, fire-shaded rocks. Phew, what an impression, eh?_

_Those next few days, I had spent them testing my charming abilities. I plucked multiple flowers from a nearby field, and handed one to a green-haired woman. A pretty little thing, who looked bewilderedly at the offering. Taking it, she glanced up at me—and suddenly froze. She blushed, eyes widened. Had I really become beautiful, or was it just a trick? Either way, I could tell she had fallen for me. I smiled slyly, inducing the blooming red on her cheeks. Then I merely turned and walked away. A bit rusty and uncomfortable, but I'd soon warm up to the art._

_I had used these tricks for days on end, seducing women to walk into unknown territory, my broken-down house's basement, and spending the night pleasuring them. There were so many sizes, shapes, shades and colors; all so beautiful. It had surely cheered me up, but something in me felt a small emptiness to each night spent sleeping with a different woman. At first, it was quite a small pester, but it gradually became larger and larger, to the point where I couldn't even deny it any longer. I wanted to have feeling, passion, rather, in my touch. I wanted _her_._

_I sought her out. It was fairly simple, as I knew her address from when we were little. This night, I would not work my charm in the comfort of my own home. Moreover, I had not wanted to discomfort her. Instead, I snuck in through her window—let it be known that I have a knack for lock picking, a talent I hardly even knew—and kneeled by her bed. She lifted one eye lazily, then abruptly jolted upright. A split second of common sense had been used for her to shout an "Eh?" The next moment, however, she became mine. Her eyes were no longer frightened, but gave off an impression as if she had smelled a delicious food. She smiled, her eyes oh-so-beautifully searching up and down my body, every detail and curve not missing her sight. I stood up, but was surprised to see that she was making the first move. She reached around my neck, then, with her nails digging pleasurably into my pink hair, shoved me into her embrace. Moving her hands down along my body—oh, how wonderful it all felt—she began to remove the straps of my dress. I was enticed, and returned her movements, creating a symphony, a melody whose passion drove endlessly through the whole night._

_For multiple months, I kidnapped and "raped"—though they sure seemed to like it—the various females of the village, regardless of the age. It all felt so good, it just all felt so good! I could tell now that, with this power in my hands, I could take whatever woman I wanted. Though my heart remained to Meiko, obvious from the occasional kisses I gave her, I was drenched in pleasure, lust and glory, as if Miss Venomania's rule would never end._

Again, I was wrong. It was ending. All of what had built up to this moment, and I could now see. I raised only my eyes to meet with the man's, who was now circling around me like a hungry predator. A smirk creeped onto his face, then stayed plastered there. He moved his focus to the bloodied blade, now fingering the warm and sticky red that coated the tip of it. Boy, was he sure cocky.

"I hadn't suspected the devil's child herself would be so easy to capture. Maybe you should have—"

I couldn't hear the rest, I couldn't go on any further. Nothing else mattered to me right now, except the one action I was dying—literally—to do. _Sleep._ I wanted sleep, so much. It seemed so wonderful, I was beguiled to the idea of resting. Just to regain energy for my head, and my reign would continue. I knew this was false, but a woman can dream, can't she? Maybe in hell, I could build my harem there. Either way, despite all my regrets, all my anguish, I couldn't sense any more emotions in my exhausted heart and brain; they all vanished from me, and my indifferent brain was slowing its pace of work. My eyes fluttered softly, then closed. I laid there for a bit, contemplating my life over for the third time.

Was this really what I wanted? Innocent Luka of Venomania, who had not a care in the world while her parents were alive? No, I'm not Miss Venomania anymore. I'm a monster, and a monster I shall remain. My sins, my sold soul, they could never be repaid and return me to the small girl I once was. Fallen for a farmer's daughter, I faced my fate with a proud smile on my face. At least, I think I was smiling.

And at last, it was reaching its conclusion. Life escaped me as the man sunk his knife once again into my back, this one the last. In my final moments, I heard laughter. But whether it was the devil's, or the man's, that was beyond me.

**A/N: I'll have to admit this one came out of nowhere. I was raking my brain to find some material I could use in current projects when I was listening to The Madness of Miss Venomania by Luka. To be perfectly honest, I love the story of Venomania (and I sure listen to it a lot), and since I prefer yuri and Luka's version over Gakupo's, I went for it. Why, exactly, I don't know. But I sure as heck made a lot of revisions to try and make her sound bipolar and insane. This was a short one-shot, mainly because it only took me three days to plan, construct and revise.**

**Obviously, the parts all tie back to the story of Venomania (many details tying back to the PV for Miss Venomania), but with a little twists here and there. Listing every detail that I made up on my own would take way too long, so I'll just say my interpretation of the story.**

**In a land called Venomania, a noble's daughter, an orphan since seven, is sick of her life. Everyone but one person in the village hates her and mocks her because of her ugliness. She clings to the one person who's her friend, Meiko—but nothing lasts forever. **

**On Meiko's twelfth birthday, she suddenly remembers some rumors she heard other girls whispering about—that she and Luka were lovers. Confirming these homosexual and banned feelings were non-existent, Meiko questions Luka on how she feels. Luka is contemplative about this for too long. Meiko, assuming that Luka's silent answer is a "Yes, I love you," throws the flowers she was given by her friend in her face. She walks away, and her last words to Luka were, "I hate you."**

**In a desperation to receive all she felt she was deprived of—love, the feeling of being wanted and needed, etc—Luka, eight years after Meiko's hurtful words, stands by the devil's feet, selling her soul to him in hopes that she can become all she ever wanted: beautiful and loved. It works. For months at a time, she spends lustful nights with every female of the village, including her childhood sweetheart. But the power soon gets to her. Her insanity, her marks left by hell's king, everything about her morphed to something inhuman. **

**One night, a girl whom she's never seen before walks into her doorway, nervous. Assuming it was a visitor that she forgot she charmed, Luka welcomes the small one into her arms. Her mistake.**

**For, the girl wasn't even a girl; he was a young man, trying to find and avenge his loved one. He stabs Luka in the heart, which releases everything: her spell; her marks; her insanity; her women; and her life. Finally, the "wicked" Miss Venomania got what she deserved, for her deadly sin of lust. However, was Miss Venomania truly a cruel and horrible soul? That remains the question.**

**With smaller details, such as Meiko's family and their position in society, Luka's age when she became an orphan, or even the title of Luka being an orphan, those were improvisation. They're quite insignificant, but all of such were never implied in the story. As for my own personal opinion on Miss/Duke Venomania, I don't think that they're the bad ones. They were tortured, and, trying to at least feel the slightest bit of what they strived for all in their lives, suddenly lost to insanity and let it get to their heads. After all, with power comes potential insanity.**


End file.
